I'm a sandwich shop lover and I especially enjoy Subway's Philly cheese steak and ham & cheese with added avo sandwiches. I like them so much for lunch that even though their relentless $5 promo song will be looping in my mind for the rest of the afternoon, I cannot resist spell of the Subway sandwich artist.
On several afternoons during the work week, I can be found waiting patiently in a moderate line at one of two Subways near my office. I look forward to my loafy lo-cal friend on Subway lunch days. I choose my bread carefully, alternating varieties for Philly or ham fixings. I watch the Subway artists keenly as they place the trimmings I request on my sandwich, making sure they don't overlook the extra feta and withhold the salt, but add the pepper.
'Anything else?' they ask. Nothing else. We're home free and I turn my attention to the register as the sandwich wrapping paper crinkles. Out the door, back to the office, behind my desk with my precious freshious at last!
I unwrap the goods and DAMMIT! Again. The fat, fluffy number I last saw before the wrapping process is smashed down to a mere sliver of its former self. Its innards squishing out on all sides, flattened avocado goo sticking to the paper and rogue onions refusing to go down with the ship poking out all willy nilly. Enough. I will Not Stand For It any longer.
I will go back to Subway. This situation is most certainly manageable. I will not stray from my sandwich until it's safely cocooned in its plastic tube bag and we're both on our way, far from the devil hands of the flattening sandwich wrapping Subway artist. You've been warned. Watch your subs.